You can take the boy out of Scranton, but.....

I never liked the saying, "you can take the boy out of Scranton, but you can't take the Scranton out of the boy". Perhaps because I have spent most of my adult life trying to prove it wrong. It seemed from the minute I left home, at the age of 18, I was trying to shed my Scranton roots. First to go was that Scranton accent - a combination of Fargo meets Deliverance. Then there was the lingo. Where else in the world could you hear a phrase like "I'll have a couple-two-three of those beers" or refer to a funeral home as "a corpse house". (For Scranton beginners, this site is a nice guide to the region's special lingo http://www.brianweinberg.com/dictionary.html).

Next I needed to reinvent myself. Gone was the Yuengling beer. This guy needed to drink the drink of a gentleman. I had a phase with scotch on the rocks. But when I realized my reinvented self looked something akin to a 75-year-old country club retiree, I bought a book on wine. I upgraded my diet. Scranton is a land-locked, meat and potatoes kind of place. Indeed, my only recollection of fish was the frozen sticks from Mrs. Paul's (for those reading in England see http://www.mrspauls.com/). My newly-invented self dined on mahi-mahi, monk fish, and of all things, sushi (complimented with sake and plum wine). For entertainment, I shifted from the Multiplex to the arthouse movies at Lincoln Center. I joined a theatre that did Irish revivals. Hell, I even started going to the opera. And for a finishing touch, I needed a really cool job that no one in Scranton would do. I was hoping for guitar-playing rock star. But I never learned more than a handful of chords. So I settled for currency strategist. I figured there were only a few dozen or so of us in the entire world - surely I'd be the only one from Scranton. And in the world of high finance, it is about as close to a rock star as you can get. My transformation was complete.

But a funny thing has happened to me recently. I realize that I miss some parts of my old, Scranton self. While I still love wine, I am happy to see Yuengling have its own reinvention - as a micro beer available in Manhattan for $10 per bottle. I finally have to admit those arthouse movies at Lincoln Center are typically boring, and nearly always depressing. My last memory of Lincoln Center cinema was some movie about a school bus that crashed into a frozen lake. What's wrong with a little Lucas and Speilberg? Those Irish theatre revivals just remind me how sad early 20th century history was for my ancestors (I am Irish American). And to be honest, I find I just don't like opera. Why should I pay $75 per seat to cure my chronic insomnia when I can do it for free reading almost anything written by currency strategists.

But my reversion back to my Scranton roots is most notable in my parenting skills. It is here I had planned to shed anything I had learned as a lad. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. But many of the funnier childhood memories revolve around their parental choices. There was the time my elder sister - the first of my family to attend university - convinced mom and dad that the university grading scale was a 3.0 rather than the actual 4.0. For most of her time in school, she had them duped into thinking she was a top student. As for dad, one of his most consistent parental choices was to get us kids to participate in activities that he liked. There was always a few Christmas gifts meant for me that he seemed to enjoy just a little too much. There were the times we played the Atari game system together. Every now and then I'd catch dad changing the difficulty on my controller when he sent me off to fetch him a beer. Dad liked to win. Of particular note was a trip to the cinema together for the premier of Apocolypse Now. The movie was released in 1979, which meant I was 11 (I still see a bald, heavy-set Marlon Brando in my nightmares). No, I am going to bring up my boys differently.

As I think about my parenting choices recently, however, I realize I have quite a lot of my parents in me. Sure, the boys are living their lives very differently than I did. But they should be - they live in the center of one of the largest cities in the world. My first 18 years were in a town of 6000 people. And while I won't be duped on grading scales, I have found myself more interested in seeing the boys have fun, rather than hitting the books hard (believe it or not, in England you hit the books rather early). But where I notice the greatest similarity to my parents, dad really, is in my desire to shape the boys' interests around my own. By the time Ranen was two, he knew every coffee chain in London and what treats are available at each (I have a bit of a latte fetish - he can recite from memory the selection of muffins at Starbucks and Costa). And for some time, he genuinely enjoyed watching me play my Sony PlayStation. By now, he has gotten the joke and insists on getting some of his own playing time with FIFA 2009 (a soccer game, of course). While I allowed Ranen to constantly listen to dismally boring nursery rhymes, with Gideon I am certain not to repeat this mistake. He will never learn "Piano man", a song that Ranen insisted upon repeatedly playing during our three hour drive to Cambridge some years back. Gideon loves music--- my music (if you don't believe me, check out the video below - Ranen, Gideon and Dina dancing to a song from the Kooks). Who cares if Gideon will be the only kid in nursery that likes the Stone Temple Pilots. Humpty dumpty is overrated anyway.

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In the end, I guess I have learned that despite living the past 22 years away from Scranton, I really can't take the Scranton out of me. More important, I realize, I shouldn't want to.

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A Scranton Boy in Chelsea

P.S. For those Scrantonian readers, a new hamburg joint just opened up around the corner--sounds like a touch of home, heyna?? (For those not from Scranton, hamburg is the food, not the city in Germany.)

2008: The Year of the Interesting Curse

In ancient China, there was a proverb - usually used to curse another person - which went something like, "may you live in interesting times". Its closest equivalent in Scranton is "may your mother-in-law have good health". While many years simply blend into one another, 2008 was very clearly one of those interesting times to which the Chinese were referring. As to whether it was a curse to live through, I will let you decide. I leave you with an A-to-Z of the most notable moments for me in the past twelve months.

A is for "ah-day", or Gideon's name for Ranen. 2008 was the year when we saw Gideon's first steps and heard his first word ("Cat", to call on Seamus, our feline of 13 years). It was also the year that a wonderful bond between Ranen and Gideon formed. Ranen became "ah day" when he taught Gideon to say, "good day". "Ranen" is still too hard for Gideon's budding language skills, so "ah day" seemed sensible.

B is for Boxing Day, a rather quirky holiday celebrated in the British commonwealth on December 26th. Its origins dates back many years to when the upper class would give to the poor on the day after Christmas. Either way, Boxing day was for us a way of celebrating the holidays and our new home in Chelsea with our family and friends here in London.

C is for C__ House, where Ranen began his first year of proper English school in September - uniform, et al (picture). I am proud to report that Ranen is already reading me to bed with his favorite story, "The Giving Tree".

D is for dad's 70th birthday in August, celebrated with his entire family by his side - a rare event since we moved to London. And thanks to the surprisingly close proximity of mom's and mom-in-law's birthdays, we celebrated these together as well.

E is for European cup, the once every four year continental soccer championship. This year, Spain beat Germany in a gripping final. More importantly, that game helped launch Ranen's healthy obsession with the beautiful game. It also meant I finally had a worthy sports companion in London! (Now we are just waiting on Gideon, although he already displays impressive dribbling skills)

F is for fourteen, or the wedding anniversary that Dina and I celebrated on November 12th. Admittedly, not usually a notable one. But in what goes down as one of our most challenging years together, the bond that Dina and I formed seemed to get even stronger - and surely more mature.

G is for Gideon, whom we finally got a chance to meet in 2008. Indeed, G is also for Garrett, a long-time friend and someone who summed up a second child perfectly. As he shared a bottle of wine with us, Garrett told us that for your first child, you cherish all the novelty, even the parts that aren't so pleasant. But for your second, you simply can't wait to meet the little person they will be. I met Gideon this year, and boy am I happy.

H is for Hank Paulson, the man who put the M in moral hazard. Hank's decision to let Lehman Brothers fail was not only a personal tragedy, but perhaps the worst policy decision in modern financial history. By time of print, $25 trillion had been wiped out in global equity value and more than 1 million jobs had been lost in the US alone since September. At the time, Lehman would have cost the tax payer about $40 billion. By the end of 2008, the cost of bailing out the US economy had risen to over $1 trillion. Happy retirement Hank.

I is for Istanbul, one of the wonderful new places I visited in 2008. In this case, the visit was with Dina, where we had three days to explore one of the most historically rich cities in the world. Other new stops for me included Cyprus and Australia.

J is for Jamestown, Rhode Island, the town we chose for our annual summer holiday with our entire immediate family. Two weeks of fun in the sun with baseball, hot dogs (mainly kosher ones), apple pie and a healthy dose of family "dynamics".

K is for Knights Tale, Ranen's 2008 movie obsession (following a near 2-year obsession with Pixar Cars). In a rather weird twist, the obsession began with another Ranen obsession - Heath Ledger, who died early in the year. Knights Tale was the only movie we could think of to show Ranen what a fine actor he was (we figured Ranen was a little young for Brokeback Mountain, aka "the cowboy movie").

L is for Lehman Brothers, the 158-year old firm which filed for the largest bankruptcy in US history. Lehman was also where I spent the past seven years of my career. I am sure that September 14th will be one of those dates I remember for the rest of my life. (The picture on the left is the Lehman bankruptcy bash I threw for my team in the week that followed).

M is for MarQCuS, the product developed by me and my team at Lehman. By September, MarQCuS had nearly $2 billion of client assets under management and had 2008 revenues annualizing at more than $60 million. MarQCuS now sits on a server under the control of PWC, Lehman's European bankruptcy manager. Rest in peace, MarQCuS.

N is for Nomura, the tiny Japanese merchant bank that bought all of Lehman's Asia operations and most of its European ones. Today, most of my old Lehman colleagues work there. I chose another path. I joined another US bank in November as global head of Foreign exchange and local markets strategy.

O is for October, one of the more expensive months in my adult life. Financing my own garden leave-- typically a perk of employment transition in the UK that I was denied. A few trips to far away places, some new furniture for our new home, a lot of leisurely lunches with Dina. And for the first time since high school, no paycheck. Who said the consumer is dead.

P is for Polina, our nanny from January through June. In a momentary lapse of reason, Dina fired our long-time nanny, Emerita (Emie). Polina joined with nearly no english skills and absolutely no nanny skills. Fortunately, Dina's regained her reason and rehired Emie in June. Polina remains a family friend and even got to join us in Cyprus in one of her last days as our nanny (see photo's background).

Q is for quadragenarian, which I became earlier this year. Dina through a swanky party for me, complete with a mock Financial Times birthday cake (pitcure up top - yes, that is really a cake), a collage of my early life, lots of champagne and an impressive mix of friends and family. Sadly, those family members that visited from Stateside got to witness the effects of quite a lot of bubbly on my declining, middle age tolerance (sorry for that).

R is for Ravello, a wonderful little town on the Amalfi Coast in Italy. We visited Ravello for the second time in August to attend our friends Ian and Michelle's wedding.

S is for the pound sterling, whose decline in 2008 was a professional and personal triumph. Professional because I was early in calling its demise (August 2007) and personal, because for the first time since we lived in London, it almost feels affordable (almost, that is).

T is for Turnberry, host of the 4th Annual Lehman Liquid Markets Conference (RIP), next year's British Open and Ranen's first round of pitch and put. Tiger, its time to start looking over your shoulder, as Ranen is not far behind you!

U is for University, Penn State University. Admittedly, the beating to USC on New Year's day was a disappointment (but technically, in 2009). Either way, this Scranton Boy in Chelsea appreciated the stellar 2008 season - We are, Penn State!

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V is for the Vale, the area around our new home. After Lehman's fall, Dina and I decided we needed a full split from our pre-bankruptcy life (we are not bankrupt, for the record).

W is for Warwick castle, Hever Castle and the other wonderful medieval sites we visited in 2008. My young boy obesssion with King Arthur and all things medieval had to be satiated with books. For Ranen (and soon Gideon), we take him to the source (then make him read the book!).

X is for X-mas, where Nancy's back surgery and Auntie Lisa's unexpected two-day stay in the emergency room made the decision to stay in London feel a little better. There is always next year.

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Y is for yin and yang, the Chinese concept of interdependence of various forces in the world. It is a fitting phrase when you look at the world through my economic eyes. At the start of 2008, the theme amongst many economists (not yours truly) was de-coupling - how the new emerging market tigers had broken their long-term interdependence with the US. By the end of 2008, we were in the middle of the worst global recession since the 1930s, a recession that was being felt most actuely in those economies thought to be immune to the housing-led crisis in the US - Russia, China, Brazil and India. While very little has felt funny about the global economy this year, I did enjoy the comic irony in watching Russia being forced to devalue the rouble in the closing weeks of the year (sorry Vladimir).

Z is for zero, or the level of overnight US interest rates at the end of 2008. Oh boy, we do live in interesting times.

Happy new year,

A Scranton Boy in Chelsea